


Definitions

by UchiHime



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Sam Wilson, Eating Disorders, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Steve/Sam/Nat ficlets from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Sam had first come home from war, the word “breakfast” had meant a cup of coffee and the thought that _I probably should eat something_  with no actual follow through other than maybe a handful of dry cereal. Lunch was defined as “a half eaten donut and a bottle of water.” Dinner had two options, 1) staring blankly into the fridge and wondering _what did I eat today_ before grabbing an apple and calling it a meal, or 2) dipping saltines in Nutella and saying _at least it tastes better than an MRE_ despite the glaring lack of nutritional value _._

Honestly, he’s not sure which is preferable: a growling stomach keeping him up all night, or sleeping only to dream again and again of Riley falling in flames from the sky while all Sam can do is watch.

He grows so thin and empty, he starts to feel transparent. Part of him is still at war, and he didn't even notice. Getting dizzy and cutting short a morning run that was already half the distance that he’d grown used to while enlisted, should have been a big red flag, a sign that things aren't so great. But it was only after visiting his mom for Thanksgiving and feeling guilty about that second piece of sweet potato pie, despite only having nibbled at a slice of ham and half a serving of dressing and yams during dinner, did it really occur to him that maybe something was wrong.

Sam would later learn that PTSD and eating disorders sometimes go hand in hand.

One day the word “breakfast” starts to mean orange juice and pancakes and bacon and eggs if he has the time. Lunch gets a new definition “a sandwich + chips/granola bar/Nutella and saltines + water/tea/soda”. Dinner still has two options, 1) pizza or Chinese, or 2) whatever meat he’d thought to take out the freezer with a mix-and-match selection of sides. This is how he know things are starting to get better.

So when there’s a knock at his door and he opens it to find two people who looked as if they’re dragging a war to his front porch, Sam makes them breakfast.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s always that one person who goes “asexual? You’re never going to convince someone to be in a relationship without sex.” 

And when Sam points out he is already in a happy relationship there’s the, “I feel bad for your partner, imagine having to give up sex to be with someone.” 

Or when the polyamory is mentioned “that’s probably the only way you can keep a relationship, they getting to have sex with each other. Unless they start thinking of you as a third wheel and push you out.”

Because, no matter how he presents it, there’s always the assumption that an asexual in a relationship is doomed for heartbreak and loneliness. 

He hates having to explain it, but he does so anyway, because he hates for people to think less of his relationship because the lack of sex. He doesn’t understand how anyone can think that the most important part of being with someone is what is done in the bedroom. How can anyone devalue a relationship based on sex, when it’s the most innocent parts of the relationship that actually defines it’s worth.

Like the way Natasha completely melts when her hair is played with. How the first time Sam had idly run his fingers through her hair, she’d all but purred. The way she doesn’t complain when his fingers tugged through tangles, or how he braids it and immediately unbraids it, only to braid it again. The little grumpy noise, almost too soft to hear, she makes when he stops. How they’d gotten to the point that whenever she had a bad day or just a lazy day, she would bring him her hairbrush and sit at his feet and he’d never seen her so relaxed.

Like the way Steve often forget he’s no longer tiny. He’s like one of those huge dogs, who didn’t realize they’re not lapdogs. He squeezes himself into too small spaces just for the sake of being near. The loveseat comfortable sat two, but Steve is determined to make it fit three; forcing space for himself because sitting anywhere else would be too far away. When half asleep, he asks to be carried up to bed. He curls himself up in Sam’s lap contented puppy, only to blush and mumble apologies when he realizes he’s squashing Sam, but is still reluctant to move.

It’s not sex that make relationships.

It’s the simple things. Steve and Nat’s good-natured bickering. Natasha constantly teasing Steve about being an old man. Steve telling Nat she looks terrible everytime she’s in a bikini. The three of them having pillow fights with the couch cushions when they’re meant to be cleaning the living room. Natasha coming to bed wearing Sam’s shirts and Steve’s boxers. 

It’s piggyback rides and hand holding and staring at the way sunlight turns blond hair into golden halos and sets red hair ablaze. It’s blanket forts and morning jogs. It’s knowing just how everyone takes their coffee and eating salted-caramel gelato while sitting on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night.

It’s bandages after battles and musical movie marathons. It’s Nat and Steve jumping without any hesitation because there’s no doubt in their mind that Sam will catch them. It’s Sam getting wrapped up in blankets and drowned in hot chocolate just because he said it was a bad day. 

And yes, sometimes Steve and Nat have sex. But Sam doesn’t begrudge them that. Never once is Sam made to feel like an outsider or a third wheel for not joining in. He gets invited for the post-coital cuddles, and once or twice he even laid in bed with them as they were going at it, just because he wanted to be close to them. He gets his fair share of kisses and never for a second doubts his place at their side.

“A relationship without sex? How does that work?”

“Easily,” Sam says, “We love each other.”


End file.
